Excerpt: On Call: Afternoon by P.D. Singer
On Call: Afternoon by P.D. Singer
Release Date: 02/2009
Publisher: Torquere Books
Publisher Link: http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&manufacturers_id=275&products_id=2537
Blurb: A doctor doesn’t have much trouble finding partners, but Keith Hoyer, M.D. questions whether people like him, his credentials, or what they think is in his wallet. Since most of the men he’s meeting are patients and therefore off limits, he goes home to his big gray tabby cat, Harpo, and dreams.
Keith’s ready to relinquish care of Dr. Dante James, just as soon as he’s treated the nasty case of cat scratch fever. He’d love to ask Dante out, but first he needs the vet’s professional expertise for the injured Harpo. There might be trouble ahead for them in the form of mismatched expectations and racial differences, but at least Keith doesn’t have to wonder if Dante likes cats.
Excerpt:
"Hello, I'm Dr. Keith Hoyer." Putting a hand out to a patient dressed in a backless gown without a twitch was one of those skills you gain early in a medical career. Good thing, too, because patients can provoke a reaction for a lot of different reasons -- usually not because they are drop-dead gorgeous. Like this guy. My mouth went dry as he shook my hand and introduced himself.
"Dante James." The name hung well on the handsome man, who sat straight backed on the end of the examining table, his espresso legs showing bare from the hem of the gown.
"Shouldn't that be Dr. James?" I found my voice again.
"If I'm the one in a backless gown, I don't think I'll be insisting on the ‘Doctor' part. I have a small animal practice here in town." His hand had been warm in mine; now it lay in his lap again. "But Dr. James or Dante will do."
"So you have to work without your patients telling you directly what's the matter." We exchanged a grin of understanding; pediatric patients had some of the same challenges. I liked adults. "Why don't you tell me what brings you in?"
"I've been having a mild fever off and on, generally not feeling well, but I figured that was probably self limiting, until this lymph node blew up. It hurts." He met my eyes calmly, which I did my best to match. I made a note in the chart.
"Where is the lymph node?" Please let it be somewhere neutral.
"My groin."
I set the chart down, adjusting my attitude to "professional." "Let's check it out." If I listened to his heart and lungs first I could manage myself better -- I hoped.
He scooted back on the exam table and let me lift the end up under his legs. When he tried to lie back, he winced, so I supported him enough to land without a flop. His liver and spleen weren't enlarged, though if I imagined my pale hand against his dark skin under the gown as I determined this, there would be enlargement elsewhere. I bit the inside of my cheek as a preventive measure.
"Just on the one side, or have you noticed lymph nodes enlarging on both sides?" I asked, as I lifted the gown above his hips. He still had his cotton boxers on; my hand could slide under and I could leave them there.
"Just the one side." He hissed when I found the node; he was correct in his identification and it was huge, easily the size of a walnut. A few flanking nodes were enlarged, too, but not nearly as much. Just to the left of his package, they were clearly palpable under the skin of his lean body. I had to check the other side, just to be sure. To do that, I had to move his genitalia away, pushing with the side of my hand to allow my fingertips access to the nodes. Even with the soft fabric between my hand and his body, I wanted to react. He had closed his eyes and was breathing evenly.
"Have any of your patients scratched you recently?" I was proud of myself; that had come out normally.
"All the time." He held out his arms, decorated with a fine network of lines in different stages of healing.
"Glad my patients don't do that to me." I had been mauled once or twice. "How about on your lower body?"
"One cat ran right down my leg a few weeks ago." He pulled the gown up farther to show me the pinkish, nearly-healed tracks on his thigh. What a shame that smooth skin got marked. "It healed oddly, little papules for a while."
"Well, I believe you have a dandy case of cat scratch fever," I told him. "They do warn you about this in vet school?"
"Yes, though they don't mention what a lymph node in your groin an inch and a half across feels like. I totter around like an old man." He shook his head, his closely clipped hair making a little rasping sound against the protective paper cover on the table. "I did think it was nothing but that, and yet..."
"Yes?" I prompted him when he stopped talking to stare at the ceiling.
"It's possible that, well..." Now he looked me straight on. "Let's just say I got a bit crazy about six months ago, and I've been wondering about my HIV status since."
"We can run a test anonymously, just to set your mind at ease." I patted his arm; I'd sweated out the same thing. "But I really do think it's cat scratch fever. Stay put, I'll get the phlebotomy things and do this myself."
"Thanks," he said, as I slipped out the door.
I couldn't keep treating him. Today, but not again. No matter how the blood work came back. It just wasn't ethical to date patients.